Scheduled Intercourse
by rainbow letters
Summary: She never thought she'd see the day a little orange dot in her phone calendar would represent 'scheduled intercourse'.


This one-shot is inspired by a family friend who told us of her trials and tribulations of trying to conceive.

I wanted to capture the frustration she expressed and adapt it to a scenario between Molly and Sherlock. Not even the World's Greatest Consulting Detective can just drop his pants and get Molly pregnant. He is only human after all.

Summary: She never thought she'd see the day a little orange dot in her phone calendar would represent 'scheduled intercourse'.

* * *

Surprisingly, it was Sherlock who had approached the baby making topic first. The pair were babysitting Rosie, whilst John was away for the night to attend an army reunion. Rosie was teething and Molly had been trying to settle her for the past hour as the baby squirmed and fussed in her arms. Sherlock watched her from his desk, pretending to respond to emails when she knew he was watching her attempts to soothe the child.

"It's endearing to see the patience you have for her. All this practise will come in handy when we have one of our own one day." Molly froze to the spot. Her pacing seized for the first time in half an hour and she held the baby a little more tightly in her arms.

"You seem shocked Molly, I don't understand? Our relationship is clearly progressing at a satisfactory rate and it's only a matter of time before we both feel the natural instinct to procreate with one another. Plus you pretty much live here now. Tell me, when was the last time you stayed at your flat?" He raised an eyebrow at her as he spoke so nonchalantly from his seat.

Now it was not that Molly didn't want children. She did. She had just fallen in love with a man who had never really shown any signs of interest towards babies or child rearing. They had been dating, a word he hated her using, for the past few months. She had wanted to bring the topic up, but as ever with Sherlock timing was everything and she never seemed to find the right moment. And in response to the flat question, she honestly couldn't remember.

"We could always start now I suppose, we don't need to be married right away. Although I know that's always been a dream of yours." He didn't await her response, instead he stood from his desk and walked over to her, taking the fussing child from her arms. Molly was still speechless. She always liked to think she was prepared for this conversation but trust Sherlock to be the one to blindside her. Rosie settled within a few minutes of being in Sherlock's arms and started to doze against his chest. Molly had to admit he most definitely suited the paternal look.

"We can always start tonight? Now that this little one is starting to settle. Or is that just too irresponsible of us?" He spoke, but he was looking at the dozing form of Rosie Watson in his arms. How could he talk about attempting to conceive a child, with the same manner as choosing what type of takeaway he wanted for dinner.

"You actually want this? A child? A crying, dribbling and shitting machine, who requires utter devotion and selflessness from its parents?" She asked him as he placed Rosie into the travel cot by the sofa.

"Well, it's a small price to pay when you're gifting society with the utter brilliance that would be a Hooper-Holmes baby." He smirked at her from his position over the cot as he placed the blanket over the sleeping baby.

Those were the words to do it. She practically wrestled him into the bedroom as soon as he stepped away from the cot. After their love making session, he mumbled something about depositing her birth control into the bin. She responded to his question by straddling his hips and exploding them both into another round.

"You'll get your baby, when you decide you want to put a ring on it." She growled into his neck and he smiled a brilliant smile before they resumed their intimate activities once more.

...

They used to enjoy each other's embrace after a bout of love making. Now the moment he had deposited his load, quite literally, he would withdraw from her like a shot, quickly place two pillows under her arse and would time her for an hour before she could move again. He treated her like a inflatable mattress, ensuring the smallest amount of air, or semen in this case, did not escape from her body.

She tried to channel the pressure of conceiving by throwing herself into yoga. However, when she noticed her yoga mat and blocks were no where to be found when she came to do a light session one evening, she knew Sherlock had a part in it. Later on she had found a printed article about over exercising being a hindrance towards fertilisation on the coffee table. She promptly screwed up the piece of paper and dumped it in the bin.

She didn't even need to track her own ovulation. Sherlock literally had it all mapped out on an A1 wall planner of the exact dates and times she was at her most fertile. This often meant that Sherlock would take her at the exact same time every day during her 'window'. It was nothing short of a military operation. He would literally drop his pants, shag her until he came and deposit her quickly onto her back with her hips pointed skywards.

This made for an interesting conversation when poor Mrs Hudson walked in on Molly in this very predicament after Sherlock had launched himself at her the moment she had walked in through the door from work. Fortunately, Molly's vagina was facing the window, which took a sting out of some of the embarrassment. Luckily, she was also clothed in a simple white blouse on her top half. Molly tossed the throw from the back of the sofa over her lower half and looked to Mrs Hudson with the look of a lost puppy. Mrs Hudson pouted and let out a soft 'oh' and bent down to place a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Nothing like a cup of tea to make you feel better ey, my love?" She spoke as she turned to the kitchen. Mrs Hudson was very aware of the couples endeavour. Sherlock had informed her months ago that they were trying to conceive so it would be advisable for her to knock in future. Which, she didn't take any notice of.

Molly responded with a nod and closed her eyes and drew her arm over her brow. Attempting to conceive had become a full time job. And she already had one of those thank you very much. God wasn't getting pregnant meant to be fun and exciting? Extremely fun, Molly could recall with a smirk. But then came the constant stream of negative pregnancy tests. By the sixth month she swore she she saw something inside Sherlock snap. And from that day on 'making a baby' had become his ultimate goal.

It started with the standard scientific research she expected from Sherlock. Diet plans were drawn up for both parties to increase fertility. He would record her basal body temperature four times a day during her ovulation window. Regardless of where and what she was doing. Which didn't exempt her when she was teaching a bunch of junior medical students one morning. Sherlock swooped into the Morgue and declared there was a personal emergency, and she could have slapped him there and then.

She never thought she'd see the day a little orange dot in her phone calendar would represent 'scheduled intercourse'. Now it felt like nothing more than a chore. Having sex with Sherlock had become as exciting as doing the dishes and it was destroying her inside. Fuck, when was the last time he had given her an orgasm? The fact she was rhetorically asking herself that question told her it was too long. The frustrating thing was that they both had been given big ticks in terms of their fertility. They were told it was just a matter of time. But she wasn't getting any younger. She was already in her mid 30's and the older she got the higher her risk of a problem pregnancy.

It was when he decided to try an amalgamation of old wives tales along with the scientifically researched methods that their relationship and sex life started to become akin to a factory production line. She knew he was getting desperate. They both were. She couldn't comprehend sometimes how much Sherlock wanted a baby. It all just seemed so un-Sherlock. But he took to their procreation efforts like a mad man possessed. He even turned down an eight last month because it interfered with her cycle. The truth was Molly let him become obsessed with it all, because what other choice did they have?

She sighed and hadn't realised she was crying until Mrs Hudson had hurried over with a cup of tea and a box of tissues and dabbed her cheeks.

"Oh, my dear I wish I knew what to do. Seeing you like this is awfully upsetting." Her voice quivered when she spoke, and Molly knew it didn't take much for Mrs Hudson to be affected by other people's emotions.

"It's been ten months of trying and failing. I can't-" Molly whispered as her voice broke towards the end of her sentence. She clenched her fist and twisted herself so her legs were placed firmly on the floor.

"I can't lie there for another minute, Mrs Hudson. I can't do this anymore." She broke completely then. Her breathing was heavy as she sobbed into her hands. Mrs Hudson sat next to her and pulled Molly towards her and she collapsed into her lap.

"Wait until Sherlock gets home. I'll give him a piece of my mind. It's not right what he's doing to you." Her voice became agitated but her fingers softly stroked Molly's loose brown locks. Molly instantly felt a little more relaxed under her touch.

"What he's doing to us, Mrs Hudson. He's tormenting himself too. He tries to hide it but I can see he's desperate. We both know he doesn't like being in situations which are out of his control. Seems he has met his match with this procreation business." Molly snivelled and drew her legs up so she was laying in a foetal position on the sofa.

It was at that moment the front door opened and shortly Sherlock appeared at the top of the stairs with a Waitrose bag in hand, staring down at his phone. He was dressed in his usual attire of his Belstaff, a dark suit and purple shirt. His hair was still slightly dishevelled from their earlier romp and the bags under his eyes contrasted with the paleness of his skin.

"Molly, they didn't have smoked salmon so I went with the unsmoked, the usual greens and why on earth aren't your hips up young lady." He glanced to the two women on the sofa and then to the timer on his phone. "You still have fifteen minutes and thirty seven seconds remaining." His expression was stern and Molly couldn't help but realise how exhausted he looked.

"You inconsiderate swine. Take a look at her. Look at what you are doing to her, Sherlock." Mrs Hudson shouted and she stood up at this point waving a finger in Sherlock's face. Molly let her head flop down onto the sofa, keeping her eyes firmly shut, her face blotchy from her outpour.

"You have to stop this madness Sherlock, it's not doing the pair of you any good. Stop treating Molly like a brood mare and treat her like a human being for goodness sake!" Mrs Hudson turned on her heels and left abruptly, leaving the couple to the deafening silence. He silently deposited the bag on the kitchen counter top and Molly heard him walk back into the living room, stopping a few feet short from where she laid on the sofa.

"Why didn't you tell me that it was getting too much. I know I'm often described as a steam roller but I do actually care about how you feel Molly." He sat down in the same spot Mrs Hudson had vacated moments before. Only this time Molly didn't replace her head on to his lap.

"I'm just so tired of it all, Sherlock. It's been ten months and we have gotten nowhere. The pressure is just too much and I have never felt so sick with stress before." She opened her eyes to find his own steely irises boring into her own.

"Stress is not ideal when we're trying to conceive." He whispered robotically. She scoffed at his Sherlock comment. He still sometimes forgot to filter the first thought which would pop into his head. Recently it was like he was quoting passages from a 'how to conceive' text book.

"I'm sorry Molly. I just assumed that we both wanted this that you didn't mind the rigorous procedure." His voice and expression were laced with sadness, as he rephrased his sentence.

"I do Sherlock. I would give anything right now for a baby, but recently it's just too much. Jesus, we don't even make love anymore Sherlock." She realised how harsh her voice sounded, but she needed him to understand how she truly felt. "And you can't expect me to keep my arse in the air for four hours a day. I just can't-" She broke at that last sentence and in an instant Sherlock had pulled her into his arms cradling her. His hand caressing her wet cheeks.

"Forgive me, Molly. It was not my intention to make you feel like this, like a piece of machinery." He softly spoke.

"Please, can we just stop this for now. I don't mean forever but, please can we just forget about it for a month or two. I just want to be like we were." His forehead was pressed to hers and she felt him nod against her.

"I also have an idea." He spoke quietly, and Molly tensed in anticipation that he was going to suggest some other unproven fertility tactic. "You said you are stressed. Well, I know you have two weeks holiday still left to take so why don't we use it?" She lifted her head as he spoke and she let out a soft smile.

"We both said we would love to do a brief tour of Italy, before we descended into this chaos. I think I would much like to do that." She announced and he smiled back at her in agreement.

"I'll have Mycroft see to it. I can't wait for you to see the beautiful rolling fields of Tuscany, you will adore it." And Molly laughed, a proper laugh for the first time in a long time. It was the first conversation they'd had in months that wasn't about fertility, diet or babies.

"Thank you, Sherlock." She spoke as she propped herself up to give him a quick peck on the lips.

"Shall I go get us some chips?" She smiled up at him then and nodded.

The salmon laid forgotten on the kitchen counter top that night.

…

Two months later and Molly felt a lot more content. Their holiday had been wonderful in every way. The spring sunshine was also pleasant in Italy at this time of year. Warm enough to not wear a coat but not too hot that the heat was unbearable to walk in. It suited them both perfectly. They returned feeling refreshed and recuperated and neither of them brought up baby talk once. Although she was quietly relieved to have her sex life returned to some sort of normality, she knew it wouldn't be long before Sherlock broached the topic of conception again and it started to play on her mind.

It was nine-thirty and Molly was alone in her office coming towards the end of her shift. She was relieved that the last couple of days had been relatively quiet, giving her an opportunity to catch up on some paper work. She was just about to file the completed batch when she heard heels coming towards her office. She looked up to see Katie, a junior doctor Molly had met a few months back. They met through the cafeteria, coincidentally timing their breaks at the same time as each other and were always next to each other in the canteen queue. They both observed how they always chose the exact same meal and they became friends shortly after that.

Katie had recently asked Molly for advice a couple of days ago. She was a competent junior doctor but her major struggle was getting blood from patients. Molly offered to be her 'live guinea pig' to try and help build her confidence and to help apply her training to someone who wasn't a patient.

"Oh, hi Katie. Is there something I can help you with or have you come to tell me you've finally asked that doctor from Gynae out?" Molly smirked at her but was met with a serious expression.

"Erm, is everything okay?" Molly stepped closer to the young, blonde haired doctor, who was looking as white as a sheet.

"Yes, I'm fine Molly. I just, erm, do you remember the other day when I took your blood and I sent it off for testing. Well, you see Molly, I just got the results and I, well erm." Katie paused briefly, before looking her dead in the eyes. "You're pregnant."

Molly's head suddenly felt very light. This was not the way she had imagined she would find out. She always thought it would be her and Sherlock huddled in their bathroom counting down the agonising seconds before they could check the test. Like they had done so many times before. She almost didn't know how to react so she did the first thing her brain told her to do and she cried hysterically.

"Oh my, Molly. I'm sorry, I didn't want to upset you I –" Katie was cut off when Molly enveloped her in a hug.

"Katie, this is the happiest day of my life. Me and Sherlock, well, we've been trying for almost a year. It just became too much pressure and disappointment that I never told anybody we were trying to conceive." She pulled back from her then and sat herself on her chair.

"Well let me be the first to say congratulations. I'm so happy for you Molly. But I just want to let you know that you're very early on. The results say you're around four weeks, so it was only just detectable. And don't worry I won't say a word." Katie took Molly's hand in her own and squeezed it hard.

"Any ways I literally only had five minutes and I just had to come and tell you. I'm so happy for you Molly. Let me know how it goes with Sherlock, he'll be over the moon!" And with that Katie turned and left the morgue.

Molly slunk further into her chair and let out a small laugh as she caressed her flat abdomen. She glanced towards the clock and thought fuck it. Mike would be taking over from her in twenty minutes and she knew he was always early to his shifts anyways. She hurriedly grabbed her belongings, left Mike an apologetic note and bolted for the door. She usually took the tube but she couldn't wait to get home so she jumped in a cab. It was the longest twenty minutes of her life.

By the time she reached Baker Street she had flung way more money at the driver than was necessary but she didn't care. She raced through the door and up the stairs. Sherlock was sat in his chair typing incessantly into his phone. He was dressed in his dark pyjamas and dressing gown and his glasses were perched on the end of his nose. He observed her as she stood in the threshold, panting out of pure exhilaration.

"Molly, did you jog home from work tonight? And it's barely just gone ten, why are you back early? Is everything okay?" The image of him sat there alone was enough to undo her. She cried for the second time that night. But she couldn't tear away the smile that was plastered on her face. Sherlock looked utterly confused for a moment, trying to piece together her tears, joyful expression and her unexpected early arrival. She was about to open her mouth to speak when his phone dropped to the rugged floor with a thunk.

"Molly, is it- are you-" His mouth and eyes were wide in shock.

"Yes." She gasped out, not letting him finish his sentence. "Four weeks." Were the only words she could just about process. He rose swiftly from his chair, ripped the glasses from his face, crossed the room in three strides and took her into his arms.

"Did you take a test tonight?" He sounded slightly hurt at the thought of her peeing on one of those goddamn sticks without him.

"No. Katie at work wanted to practice taking blood so I let her practice on me a couple of days ago and she sent a sample for testing, just for experience. She told me the news about thirty minutes ago. Sherlock, I really didn't expect this." His eyes were still wide as she spoke and his hands held her firm at her hips.

"Who knew that Italy would be the answer to all our problems." He spoke into the top of her head.

"You were right, it was exactly what we needed." She laughed softly at his comment. "But it's early days yet Sherlock. Very early. It was only just detectable in the blood work. I'm trying not to get too excited, we've wanted this for so long. We're going to have a baby, but it all feels too good to be true." She pressed her cheek into his chest, enjoying the warmth which emitted from his body.

"I know there's a higher risk of miscarriage in the first trimester." She tensed as he spoke that word and he noticed her anxiety. He rubbed his hands up and down her back in a comforting manner. "But you are still pregnant and right now that is all that matters to me." He then moved his lips to the top of her ear. "You know I did create a structured plan and diet for foetal development, in the event of pregnancy that we could transfer to –"

"Sherlock, I promise you I will follow every goddamn step of your plan. But for now can we just enjoy this moment?" He responded by placing his hands on her stomach. His fingers swept loosely over her hips and belly. She studied his expression, he was smiling but there was a look of focus behind his eyes.

"You have made me very happy Molly Holmes." His gaze never left her stomach. Suddenly, Molly was pulled by her arm and down the hall to their bedroom. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mrs Hudson in the doorway with tears in her eyes, who had obviously overheard their conversation. She must have heard the commotion of Molly racing up to the flat and decided to check on the pair. Molly beamed back at her as they both expressed their silent joy at the impending news. For now she shifted her gaze back to the man by her side as he gently shoved her into the bedroom and ravished her mouth the moment her foot was over the doorway.

She cried intermittently as they made love. Tears of pure emotion and a years worth of stress poured out of her as she laid below him, wrapped in his arms. Afterwards, as they laid in each other's embrace, with their hands clasped together and pressed to the top of her pelvis she let her mind drift. A vision of a child with dark curly hair and beautiful blue eyes invaded her thoughts. She choked back a sob that in just under a year that vision was going to become a reality.

She knew this pregnancy wasn't going to be an easy one though, as she looked to the dozing man beside her. Sherlock was going to be as thorough and invading as an MI5 agent for the next thirty five weeks. But deep down she knew that it was his own unique way of caring. No matter how crazy he was going to drive her, she knew that both her and the baby would want for nothing and he would keep her safe and happy at all costs. Even if she was only four weeks gone she couldn't deny herself of the happiness she felt at this exact moment. She closed her eyes and dreamed about the next eight months until she could hold the fruit of their love and efforts in her arms.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed this.

I hope I captured the frustration of the whole scenario. I imagined Sherlock, as the kind of leave no stone unturned until a solution is found. Molly, just gradually feeling drowned by Sherlock's determination and focus and how it causes him to forget she is a human being with feelings.

I actually enjoyed writing Mrs Hudson into the story as well. Even though, it was just a small part. I always feel she would be the perfect character to be around when the weight of the world is on your shoulder's. She just makes a shit situation feel a little bit, well, less shit.

As always, your thoughts and comments are always appreciated.


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